Father and Son
by SerenityFalconNormandy
Summary: Freeform prompt: Echo Like father, like son. Sometimes, Gwyneth Surana wishes it was a little less so.


A long day of listening to the members of the Bannorn argue over, Gwyneth left the Landsmeet chambers and rolled her stiff shoulders. The one thing that kept her from tearing her hair out and screaming at the spoiled, entitled nobles of the Bannorn was knowing she had to keep their goodwill for her son. It was only a matter of time until one of them figured out he was Alistair's. There was already resentment that the Teyrn of Gwaren was going to be elf-blooded.

Grand Cleric Elemina and Bann Ceorlic had petitioned Divine Justinia to repeal the writ allowing any heirs of her body to inherit the teyrnir regardless of her being a mage when Duncan was born because he was elf-blooded. Thankfully, Leliana had been there to intercede, and the Divine had reaffirmed her writ instead of repealing it. Every few months, they renewed their petition. Gwyn was beginning to suspect Justinia had her reaffirmation written out en-masse to send back at this point.

She paused in the door of the nursery, looking at her little boy playing with the Grey Warden hand puppet she had given to Alistair during the Blight. He was getting close to three, growing so fast. He had his hair cut recently, and insisted on having it done in the same way as 'King Stair'. It had been her bright red when he was born, but as he was getting older, it was starting to lighten to strawberry blonde. Between that and his amber eyes, and the jawline, nose, and ears he shared with Maric and Bryce, it was becoming too obvious that Alistair was his father. Would those echoes of his royal blood be what could persuade the Divine to rescind her writ?

"Mumma! I goed to see the horsies! King Stair took me!" The rambunctious boy wrapped himself around her knees, getting lost as her skirt and petticoat billowed out around him. She laughed at her beloved boy as he tried to talk so fast he tripped over his words. "I got to name one! Her name is Carrot. I feeded her an apple, though. She has a soft nose! And her hairs is red like mine! Her hoofs make a crunchy sound when she walks. It's why I named her Carrot!"

"A horse who has red hair like yours! It sounds like you had a very exciting day going to the stables to feed the horse with King Alistair, my darling. Was Carrot a good horse for you and the King?" She knelt down and hugged her boy tight after he nodded so hard he nearly fell over. Soon he would be old enough, and she would tell him Alistair was his father. While he wasn't nearly this chatty with anyone else, the risk of him blurting out that he was Alistair's was a real one.

Ceorlic and Elemina would certainly take advantage of it and cast her in a bad light, a 'blood mage whore' who had tempted the King away from his Queen. Thank the Maker Anora was no longer a threat, ash scattered in the wind along with a treacherous midwife and that sly maidservant. Gwyn shivered at the thought of what the former Queen would have done if she had solid proof that Duncan was Alistair's.

"It's almost time for dinner, Duncan, we should go get washed up."

Duncan groaned, "Whyyyyyyyy?"

'You don't want horse hair in your dinner, do you?"

While Duncan paused to give the question the serious consideration it deserved, Gwyn signalled her son's nanny, Viola, to go fetch a finger bowl and a bar of soap. He was deep in thought while Gwyn straightened his little jacket and pulled some straw that was stuck in the back of his breeches out, then gently ruffled his hair. Viola set down the bowl of water, a sliver of soap, and a soft towel. "Wash up, my love."

"Okaaaaaaaaay."

Washing up with Duncan invariably involved splashing and blowing at least one bubble through a ring he made with his fingers, but it was worth it to Gwyn to have him smiling and giggling when they arrived in the private chamber they dined in with Alistair, Fergus, Caterina, Solona, Moira, and the twins. Moira was seated properly in her boosted chair, hands folded primly in her lap and speaking to Caterina in Antivan to practice. The twins were standing on the seats of their chairs and watching as Solona chilled their beverages for them, their fascination with her magic as strong as ever. Alistair and Fergus had their heads together over something, which involved Alistair arranging his utensils to show Fergus the layout of whatever they were discussing.

Duncan climbed up into his chair next to Caterina, and nodded, saying seriously, "Hello, Lady Cat."

"Good evening, Lord Duncan." She gave him a kind smile. The Antivan 'tradition' of bastards, as Zevran had put it, meant that she had accepted Duncan quickly, despite him being elf-blooded. Would that all of Ferelden's nobility were thus. Caterina turned back to Moira, helping her with her pronunciation.

"Your Majesty, if we could have everyone properly seated, we will bring in the meal." The head server bowed in the door of the kitchen entrance.

"Right, yes. Of course, Geoff." Alistair gave a sheepish grin to the server and quickly rearranged his silver. Fergus chuckled and shook his head.

Geoff disappeared, then reappeared minutes later with a large serving platter that he carefully set in the empty space where Elissa would have been, once upon a time. "We have druffalo slow-roasted and served in an Antivan red reduction with mushrooms."

"Serve the ladies first, if you would, Geoff."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Geoff moved around the table, cutting off bits of the roast and placing it on each lady's plate, Moira first, then Caterina, Gwyn, and Solona. Gwyn allowed her mind to drift when the next course, steamed vegetables in herbed butter, was being served. Even in private like this, certain formalities had to be observed. The head cook had nearly had a heart attack when she found out Alistair had taken over her kitchen to bake one time when Moira was still a baby. It wasn't the first time she longed for the informality of the camp during the Blight, everyone huddled around the fire and relaxing while they ate.

She would even risk death by Alistair's lamb and pea stew for that simple joy once again. Although, a meal in private with Alistair and the children had its own simple joys. Gwyn covered her mouth to hide her grin as Duncan tried to sneak a bit of buttered squash to Moira's mabari, Smoke. Duncan didn't like the vegetable, and if the loud snort that Smoke let out was any indication, she didn't care for it either. Leaning over, Gwyn whispered, "You don't have to eat the squash as long as you eat the carrots and the broccoli, okay?"

"Okay, Mumma." Duncan set the offending bit of vegetable off to the side of his plate.

"Your Majesty, the next dish is whipped potatoes with cream and-"

"CHEESE!" Alistair, Duncan, Moira, Maric, and Bryce all cheered at the same time, in the same tone, with the exact same look of delight on their faces.

As the echo bounced off the walls, Gwyn smiled at her son's delight weakly. He wouldn't be able to eat with his sisters and brothers publicly until he was old enough to hide behind a mask. There was no doubt he was his father's son.


End file.
